Alphabetical Draco
by cette
Summary: Twenty-six moments in the life of Draco Malfoy after the war.
1. A is for Agony

**A IS FOR AGONY**

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[1/26]

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Two weeks. All his scars had healed up, and he looked just as he had before it all, save maybe a little exhaustion.

It had been two weeks since the war had ended, and Draco Malfoy finally sat on the chair facing the Wizengamot. They had removed the chains as a sign of goodwill towards the start of a new government, and an uncorrupted power and new freedom for the people. However, Draco hadn't felt more imprisoned in his life. Hundreds of faces looked down at him and his parents, blinking and blank as the charges were read – war crimes, supporting the dark lord, torture, countless attempted and completed murders – those mostly fell on his father. When the chair called for witnesses of the prosecution, they stepped forward in droves. Draco noted that neither Hermione Granger nor Ron Weasley came up to speak, but it seemed as if they weren't needed. He'd just figured that Weasel would have wanted to gloat – but maybe to him, Draco Malfoy was hardly important anymore. It was clear enough the fate that would be presented anyway.

"Witnesses for the defense?" The chair, minister for magic Kingsley Shacklebolt called in his deep voice. A hushed silence fell over the crowd. "No one...?" Draco looked down at his hands ashamed. Why should anyone defend them? Not only did they betray those who won, but they also betrayed those who lost. The betrayer always ended with no friends, regardless of what story it was that his mother told him. It was the way she tried to teach him loyalty. Draco wanted to laugh – _loyalty_. Look how well that turned out.

"Witness for the defense, Harry James Potter." Draco looked up, stunned. Sure enough, Harry Potter – _Saint Potter_ was walking down the aisle, his hands stuffed into his pockets. People broke out in whispers and pointed. One witch even fainted. Draco looked down at his shoes again. Kingsley nodded and smiled towards Harry, who finally moved to the front.

"Now, I'm not denying that the Malfoys have done some pretty terrible things." Draco scowled. 'Witness for the defense' – it sounded more like Potter wanted to be centre stage so he could attack them personally in front of the public. Harry fidgeted under the stares, but continued anyways.

"But er, I think it's important to say that without them, we would have lost the war." A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Draco too, had his eyes glued on Harry, which seemed to make him more uncomfortable.

"Narcissa Malfoy lied to the dark lord and saved my life – and without it, I couldn't have possibly come back to er – finish Voldemort. So I think that it should be considered when you make your decision." People were so shocked that most of them didn't bother to cringe at the name. For Draco, it still gave him that tingling in his arm – the one that reminded him. Always. His past mistakes were forever his reality. Lucius looked at Narcissa in shock, as if demanding an explanation, but she didn't move her gaze. Harry nodded to Kingsley and departed quickly. Kingsley cleared his throat.

"Now, wizards and witches of the Wizengamot, would you please vote on whether or not we should have the Malfoy family detained in Azkaban?" The witches and wizards shuffled in the seats. Draco closed his eyes tightly. His left arm burned, and Draco instinctively pressed his hand to it. He had made his choices, and these were the consequences he would never avoid.

"All for?" Draco squeezed his eyes shut as much as he could. Even though they weren't close, Draco could feel his mother shaking next to him. He wanted to put out a comforting hand, but it remained clenched on his forearm.

"All opposed?" All Draco heard was a dull ringing, and the voice of Albus Dumbledore - _'So let us discuss your options Draco.'_ If only he'd...

"I see," Kingsley stood and cleared his throat. An uneasy silence had fallen over the crowd that drew it out longer. "The Wizengamot finds Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy cleared of all charges, based on the testimony of one Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin..." Draco opened his eyes and drowned out Kingsley's voice. Many of the Wizengamot would not meet each other's eyes. Draco felt his throat close up.

He couldn't stand it. Two weeks of silence had been agony. But now, two weeks later, he was saved again by _Saint Potter_, and that was far, far worse.

The rest of the wizarding world was starting to rebuild, mourning their losses. And here he was two weeks later, marked forever, no less guilty, and no less cowardly than before.

* * *

_Draco woke, shaking. The voices present in his mind screamed to be heard as he walked shakily to get a glass of water. Two years later, Draco Malfoy still thought about it; what was said and what was done. Some scars never faded._

_

* * *

Okay, so I wasn't exactly sure how I would start this off, but I decided to go pretty much right to the beginning of it all. Um, I'm not completely sure about this piece, but I hope it got across sort of what I was thinking. Anyways, I love reviews, and I'd like to thank all of you who have reviewed my previous Draco pieces. Cheers!  
_


	2. B is for Bleak

**B IS FOR BLEAK**

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[2/26]

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Draco Malfoy looked out his window on a very frosty Christmas morning. The sky was grey and bleak, and nothing like the little picturesque Christmases in the stories he was sure were being told all around the country. But Draco didn't care – it was just another day, one which he didn't have to work or deal with the people who treated him like he was nonexistent, which was better than those who treated him like an evil.

Draco looked around his small flat. When he was 9, he would have rushed down to the Christmas tree and started hunting through presents while his parents watched on with happy faces pretending to be surprised at what Draco opened.

But now, at the age of 19, he was all alone in his muggle flat with no indication that it was a special day. He hadn't even bothered to put up a tree – what was the point? He had nothing to celebrate anyways.

His owl sat faithfully in the kitchen after having dropped off a package from his parents. There was a small card attached, written clearly in his mother's handwriting that was so cramped with words that trying to decipher them gave him a headache. Draco started on some tea and noticed a small envelope below his parents' gift.

He gave it a small tug and read the front – a slightly cursive handwriting he didn't recognize. It was clear and precise, but with a small bit of flair.

_Draco Malfoy_.

Draco yanked it open and pulled out a small card with a piece of parchment folded inside. He opened it slowly.

_Happy Christmas! _

_Thanks for the instructions the other day – I was hardly even late. I hope this finds you wherever you are, and you have a good holiday. _

_Astoria Greengrass_

Draco sat down, still clutching the card. He hadn't forgotten about Astoria by any means – in fact, it was all he could do to get her off his mind. She was the only person to treat him like a person, and now this – the first Christmas card he'd gotten that wasn't from his mother since the end of the war. Draco traced a slim finger down the line of her writing, all the while setting his teacup in perfect symmetry with the table.

So simple. So wonderful.

_P.S. I can draw maps as well._

Draco pulled the parchment out and unfolded it slowly. It was the map he'd drawn her the day they met, with a few additions. It showed another path, which had an address scribbled on it and _'my break is at 11:30'_ written by looked at map silently for a few moments, before jumping up to look around for a quill and parchment.

His teacup, which had been pushed aside in haphazard order, lay completely forgotten.

* * *

_This piece has a fair bit to do with my other two short pieces - _Teacups _and _Mapped_, so if you've read those this'll probably make a lot more sense. Anyways, please review, and for those who wanted Astoria, here she is (short of). She'll definitely be in C!_


	3. C if for Coffee

**C IS FOR COFFEE**

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[3/26]

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Since the war, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries had done the most to rebuild. The high sweeping ceilings, which from the war had been broken and disenchanted, were as vast as ever. The small fountain in the centre of the waiting room had been replaced by a new one, which indicated a muggle and a wizard living in harmony.

Draco Malfoy sat on the edge of that fountain waiting, while trying to avoid the curious and sometimes outraged looks of on comers. He had asked the welcome witch where he could find Astoria Greengrass, and for a moment, he was sure that she wasn't going to tell him. Finally she consented and sent Astoria a message, which had followed with Astoria coming down herself.

Draco could see her now at the end of a corridor arguing with a mediwitch who appeared to be her boss. Draco didn't make a move to stand or walk towards her, partially because there was no need for him to draw further attention to himself – the aristocratic Malfoy features he had once prided himself in did that for him very nicely.

Astoria detached herself from her boss and walked quickly towards Draco with happy expression. She seemed to be unaware of the crowd staring – oblivious or just didn't care.

"Draco," her voice was warm and inviting – something that still made Draco's mind reel. Still, there was some normalcy to the situation - he was acutely aware of the presence behind her back, staring and worried.

"Would you like to get some lunch?" It had to be the longest sentence he'd strung together in sometime, and there was something so odd about it – like he couldn't quite remember how to interact with people in this way. "There's a nice bakery around here in Muggle London."

"That would be lovely." They turned towards the door.

"Astoria, dear, don't forget your break ends at 12:30." Her boss had finally decided to speak, instead of just give Draco an uneasy look. "If you're not back I'll send someone for you." Draco looked down at the floor and said nothing. Even if Astoria trusted him, the rest of the world was under no illusion. Some days, he wondered if she was crazy for thinking he wasn't like the rest. Astoria waved at her boss but didn't respond. When she was on the move again, she was mumbling under her breath.

"Yes, I'm sure the muggles will have hit squads out to kill me." Draco couldn't help but smile a little bit.

They reached the bakery without much else – only a few stares from people who were obviously wizards. Draco had learned to appreciate ignorant muggles, because they had absolutely no idea who the Malfoys were, and didn't seem to care very much either.

Draco raised an eyebrow when she ordered coffee, and even more when she poured a ton of sugar and milk in it. When Astoria looked at him, she just sighed and put it down.

"I know, but I can't help it. Coffee got me through my NEWTs, and since then I can't stop drinking it. My roommate thinks I'm crazy, but all she ever drinks is earl grey." Draco grinned.

"I didn't say anything." Astoria rolled her eyes, and drank from her mug. Draco played with his teacup a little bit. He didn't understand why she treated him this way – when everyone else couldn't even speak to him.

Astoria seemed to notice he was uneasy. "Is everything alright?" Draco looked at Astoria and tried to place the emotion in her eyes...concern?

"Why do you talk to me? I'm a death eater, a traitor..." _A coward_. Astoria sighed and leaned back.

"No Draco, those are the things you _were_. To me, you're just a little bit lost. Just like the rest of us."

_Just like the rest of us_. Yet, she must be the only person in the world who thought that, because even Draco himself didn't. He was definitely something else. But still, the way Astoria said it with such confidence; it was clearly what she believed. And Draco so wanted to be with her in that.

"Thank you." Astoria shook her head.

"No need to thank me, I'm just as lost as you are." Draco looked surprised. She always seemed so composed and together. Astoria fingered her mug.

"Other than when you've got to find a place, I doubt you're lost." Astoria looked slightly surprised at his joke, and then grinned.

"Hey, I got you here didn't I?" Draco looked down at his teacup and smiled.

"Yes, you did."

* * *

_Uhh, I'm not terribly sure about this one, some of the things in it I was having trouble with. Anyways, D is going to be a lot....darker and more depressing than b and c, but in the mean time, I hope you enjoy this, and please review. (:_


	4. D is for Disgust

**D IS FOR DISGUST**

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[4/26]

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Draco turned the invitation over in his hands several times before placing in neatly next to his teacup – again. It had been a week since his parents had return to England from France, and six days since his mother had sent him a dinner invitation for the following Sunday at the manor. Since then Draco had been brooding over the fact that he would have to return to the place. He hadn't been back since the war ended – they had gone straight into custody, and then right away his parents had left for France. Draco had gone with them for a little while, and then he had gotten his apartment in London. Draco hadn't even bothered grabbing personal things from the place, he couldn't think of anything he'd want from there.

Draco sighed and picked up the card again. His parents had come to visit him earlier in the week, and they had surprised him. It was as if they weren't really themselves, but reflections in the mirror, trying hard to be who they were but in reality everything was in reverse. His mother was trying to be a socialite when no one wanted to speak with her, and his father was trying to exude power he would never again have.

If that was the case with his parents, he wondered what they saw when they looked at him. Was he a reflection, or something else?

Whatever the case was, he certainly wasn't who he had been, but he was still the person who committed all of those crimes.

When the invitation had first come, Draco had half the mind to simply refuse – the thought of going back to the manor repulsed him. Too many memories, and too much...

He couldn't even bring himself to think about it.

Still, that evening found Draco standing outside the grand gates to the Malfoy Manor, the family motto plastered in Latin above it in ornate letters. The sun was setting over the hill, and the house was just starting to get its evening shadows. It was grand and majestic – as his father had once told him, 'the only place fit for a Malfoy to live.'

Draco knew that he was late, and that his mother would start to worry about where he was, but he couldn't force himself to push open the gate. He loved his parents, truly, but he didn't understand how after it all, they could simply live in the manor as if nothing happened. As if people hadn't died. As if...

A scream from nowhere echoed off the house, and Draco wasn't sure if he was imagining it, or if it was real.

"_Draco, you should be so very _honoured!_"_

Draco started to shake and his vision swam. He knew who he could hear screaming. He heard Weasley begging from below, muffled from the thick floors. Aunt Bellatrix laughing. Draco felt sick.

Without another glance at the house, Draco turned on his heel and ran. He knew that his parents were waiting, probably worried sick about him not arriving, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't face his past. He was disgusted by himself, the person he was in that house.

Draco reached a small street with dimly lit lamps. He collapsed onto a park bench breathing heavy. He sat motionless and eyes closed until his breath quieted.

Draco slowly rolled up his sleeve and looked at the mark. It was still black – his father hadn't mentioned whether or not it would fade, but Draco didn't think he would ever ask the question anyways.

"_Do you swear to forever serve me?"_

He was so confident and sure of himself then. And now...now...he was a coward, a coward who couldn't even face who he'd been. And that, of all things, disgusted him the most.

Draco looked out towards a house across the street where a family was sitting down to eat, happily smiling and laughing. A group of teenage boys rounded the corner towards Draco.

"Hey man, nice tattoo. Where'd you get it?"

Draco turned around and threw up behind the bench.

"_You have chosen your fate Draco Malfoy. You have chosen your destiny."_

_

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Sorry this has been awhile guys! I've been super swamped. Thanks to all the people who have reviewed so far, you all rock. Anyways, I've already got 'E' written, so I should have it up pretty soon. I hope you like 'D'. Cheers!  
_


	5. E is for Easy

**E IS FOR EASY**

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[5/26]

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_Tick, tick, tick..._

Draco Malfoy gazed up at the clock for the tenth time that morning. It wasn't the constant noise that was bothering him – no, it was the fact that every time he looked at it the hands didn't seem to be inching closer and closer to his freedom. His boss – a proud muggleborn man who seemed to loath Draco on principle was standing outside speaking to another member of their department. Draco wasn't sure why he'd applied to work in Experimental Transfiguration and Regulations, but it seemed like the right choice. Transfiguration was something that he had been honestly good at, and even if at school he never would have admitted it, with McGonagall at the head of the class, it was one of the only classes he'd ever felt was entirely fair and honest. His father had suggested potions, to honour Snape, but thinking of the way he'd gotten through the class with a breeze gave him a foul feeling. Besides, it would have been easy.

Because saying yes to the dark mark hadn't required a second of thought at all. Not even a fraction. It had been so easy.

The last thing Draco Malfoy wanted was _easy_.

_Tick, tick tick..._

His boss waved goodbye to the woman and entered Draco's office. Draco had been filling through paperwork, each pile meticulously set so that it was stacked, alphabetically, without a parchment even a hair out of line. The smile Mr. Wheaton had on his face vanished the second he saw Draco. The office was cramped, but even then, everything seemed symmetrical. Still, objects moved every day, as if Draco was still trying to find that balance.

But Mr. Wheaton never noticed this.

"Malfoy," he said with a low grunt. He dropped a large stack of paperwork on Draco's desk, splaying things in all directions. Draco didn't bother to look up, but his knuckles clenched slightly under the cedar. "I want these filled on my desk by the end of the day. No excuses. Oh, and the Minister wants to see you in his office."

Mr. Wheaton left, leaving Draco surprised. He fixed the paper carefully, and hurried off to the minister's office. He knocked and stood quietly, trying to avoid the stares. He knew where most of them were directed – Draco knew that very few people had seen his mark and many of them wondered still, what the absolute truth was.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, please come in." Draco followed and sat as indicated. The office was so different from the last time he'd been in there - with Fudge as minster – and he knew that it hardly made a difference anymore. Everything was different.

"Would you like some tea?" Draco shook his head. The minister sat opposite to him, and poured himself a cup.

"Now, I know you've been a valuable member of the Experimental Transfiguration and Regulations department for some time, however I was looking over your transcripts and noticed you seem to do quite well in potions." Draco wasn't surprised – all of his records had been vigilantly watched since...it all.

"We were wondering if you would perhaps consent to take Mr. Bigsby's old position as a maker? He's retiring." Draco knew where this was coming from – Mr. Wheaton had done all he could to get him out of his department since he'd gotten there. It wasn't exactly secret. And it would be so easy to say yes. Draco cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry minister, I can't." Kingsley seemed surprised, but he didn't comment.

"Very well, I will continue searching." Draco nodded to Kingsley, and left the room. The people continued to stare as he walked away, and Draco fingered his arm absently. It would have been so easy to say yes.

He sat down in his chair and looked at the large pile that Mr. Wheaton had left with him.

_Tick, tick tick..._

_

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So this was written second of the drabbles actually, but I didn't think it fit for any of the earlier letters. Anyways, thanks again to my awesome reviewers, and I hope you all enjoy 'E'.  
_


	6. F is for First

**F IS FOR FIRST**

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[6/26]

* * *

Draco Malfoy had a lot of firsts in his life – first Christmas, first time at Hogwarts, first spell, first Quidditch match, first crush, first kiss, first rival, first war, first time he watched someone die, first time he tortured someone, first...

The later matter especially, Draco quite often pictured in his mind. In fact, it was as if a movie was reeling twenty-four seven and he wasn't allowed to say he wanted to leave. He couldn't fall asleep, because the music just played louder, and the people became more real. He was seeing the ashen body of Crabbe, frozen in time between tears and screaming, and Harry Potter watching the whole thing.

The movie spun, switched orders, played in different genres, but ultimately, it focused on everything he wanted to forget, and kept those scenes in replay. Over, and over again.

But when Astoria grabbed his hand, and looked deep into his eyes – blue met blue. Draco couldn't see anything. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. All he could see was blue, on and on. She blinked once, and Draco gained some coherency. He blinked – his mind fumbled around.

"Are you sure?" He wasn't even sure what prompted him to say those words, but it sure wasn't the person who watched that movie. It was quiet, assured, and soft. It was almost happy, with a nervous anticipation. Astoria just smiled and leaned in close.

"I'm sure," she kissed him softly on the lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but a sweet kiss, more of an affirmation than a request. It was only a fleeting moment that Draco wished wouldn't end.

"I'm sure." Astoria blinked again, and rested her head on his shoulder. Draco couldn't breathe.

It wasn't his first kiss – it didn't have the desperation or passion that his previous ones had as if they could make him forget. But standing there with Astoria, Draco was sure it was a first – the only first that mattered.

* * *

_I'm so sorry this took so long! I had a bit of a block, and then school got in the way. I'm not exceptionally happy about this, and its quite short, but I would appreciate some feedback. I love you guys, hopefully it won't take me as long for 'G'. 3_


	7. G is for Gossip

**G IS FOR GOSSIP**

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[7/26]

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"Still there," Astoria said with a sigh. She settled back onto the chesterfield and snuggled into the crook of Draco's arm with her mug of tea. Draco leaned back and closed his eyes with a tired sigh.

"I'm sorry Astoria, I thought they'd have been gone by now at least." For a few moments, they both sat in silence, listening to a quiet chattering noise from outside the door of Astoria's flat. It had been three months since Astoria considered them to be in a relationship, and Draco had just agreed with her. He really could care less what it was called, he was just happy to have someone, and he knew there was nobody in the world like Astoria. She was slowly becoming everything to him, and this...mess was entirely his fault.

The noises slowly got louder and louder. Astoria shuffled with annoyance. A few more moments of silence. Astoria moved again, but this time she sat upright. "You ready?" Draco looked into her eyes – determined and utterly defiant.

"If you want." He kissed her lightly and stood, offering her a hand. Astoria grabbed it and stood, muttering quietly about how ridiculous the whole thing was. She made a straight line for the door, and yanked it open.

Hordes of cameras and reporters tried to defy nature and fit themselves through a door which could only take two. One question could be heard clearly through the crowd to Astoria and Draco, who stood quietly at the top of the step.

"Miss Greengrass, how do you feel about sleeping with a death eater?" Then another.

"Mr. Malfoy, the public is curious what love potion you are using on Miss Greengrass?" The rest were taken in by the crowd, and unintelligible. Astoria gave Draco's hand a squeeze.

"Go find real jobs; we've got nothing to say to you." She turned and slammed the door in their faces. Astoria groaned and dropped to the floor, leaning against the closed door. Draco slid down next to her. All of this media and the attention was entirely his fault. Considering the suffering of others throughout the war however, it seemed trivial and stupid.

"How long do you think they'll last this time?" Draco asked. Astoria let out a frustrated sigh and leaned her head against Draco's shoulder.

"I'm just hoping a Weasley decides to get married, really soon." Draco smiled slightly.

He was so lucky; Astoria gave him everything, and none of it was deserved.

* * *

_Okay, so I know this took forever. Sorry guys! Life has been really hectic. So anyways, here's the new chapter, and hopefully 'H' won't take me near as long! As always, much love to all of the reviews. :) Cheers!  
_


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